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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275231">Paragon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNoPlot/pseuds/QueenNoPlot'>QueenNoPlot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Worship, Desk Sex, F/M, Gentle Sex, Kissing, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Spike - Freeform, Spike Modifications (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valve Fingering (Transformers), interfacing with the Matrix, mentions of - Freeform, the Matrix is into it, valve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:49:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNoPlot/pseuds/QueenNoPlot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of PyraOp one-shots set in the same AU but in no particular chronological order.</p><p>“Collide” made chapter 1, “Insatiable” made chapter 2, and “Unorthodox” made chapter 3 of “Paragon.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Optimus Prime/Pyra Magna, Optimus Prime/Pyra Magna/Matrix of Leadership</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Collide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This got waaay longer than intended, but I’m proud of it. I will go down with this ship.</p><p>Recommended listening: “Collide” by Rachel Platten.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Optimus enters his unit quietly. For a warframe, at least. He locks the door behind him and continues carefully, straight through the common room to the berthroom. He doesn’t notice until he’s closed the door and turned back around that the femme is awake, and he nearly jumps out of his metal.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Pyra,” he vents. “I did not mean to wake you.“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “You didn’t.” Her optics lock onto his.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Oh.” Optimus knows that look. He switches off the light and begins to slowly approach the teal and magenta femme sitting on the edge of the berth. “I see.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Don’t give me that,” she growls, standing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The mech halts just out of her reach. “Give you what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Don’t assume you know what I want.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I have received your berth optics enough times to know when you want me on my back.” The Prime holds in a vent, expecting to be tackled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Pyra narrows her optics and stalks around him. It seems she isn’t playing that game tonight. He can let the air out of his frame.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I have been processing,” she states from behind him, bringing the lights up to a dim glow. “The respect between us needs to be mutual if this is going to work. In and out of berth.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I believe our respect for each other is sufficient.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “It isn’t.” Pyra comes back into view and stops between the mech and the berth. She turns to face him. “My respect for you is lacking, specifically in the context of our...romance. I demand everything I want of you. I am an inconsiderate interface partner. Don’t try to argue with me on that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Optimus nods. “What is your plan?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “If I love you – and I know I do – it should be easy for me to at least ask politely for what I want. I will try my best to be more considerate of your needs, starting with your spike.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     He stares at her for a klick. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     “Not once have I allowed you to use your spike during interface,” Pyra says as she steps closer to him. “I have only ever used </span> <span class="s2">my</span> <span class="s1">spike for intimacy, and in doing so have been asserting dominance over you.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The Prime’s been backed into the wall at this point. He doesn’t mind, but the flux in her field says she does.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I’ve done it again.” She starts to back up but is pulled against him by an arm around her waist. “Optimus, I–“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Tell me exactly what you want and I will do my best to please you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     “It isn’t all about me,” she says, lowering her volume in their close proximity. She puts her servos on his chassis. “I want to know what </span> <em><span class="s2">you </span></em> <span class="s1">want and I want to give that to you. It’s my turn to submit.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     There’s a servo on the back of her helm, the snap of his battle mask sliding away, and his lips pressing gently to hers. Instigating isn’t his thing. Perhaps that’s because she doesn’t let him, which she doesn’t deny, but it still shocks her. She slowly slides her hand up to his audio and runs her digits up his earpiece. Optimus responds with a rev of his engine and pulls out of the kiss.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “You are obligated to tell me what you are uncomfortable with,” the mech says sternly. “I do not want to do anything you do not like.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “If you do something I don’t like, I will tell you, </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">loudly</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">. If words escape me, I’ll tell you physically.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Optimus chuckles. “I expect nothing less.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     He removes his arms from her waist and takes her servo. She pulls him as she steps backwards, then turns them around. The backs of the mech’s knee struts meet the edge of the berth and he sits, looking up at her with adoration. She puts her servos on his shoulders and he prepares for her to rest her weight in his lap, but she alters her course and pulls her mate along until she’s on her back with him on servos and knee struts above her. Her EM field wavers as she shuts down her frame’s alerts, but she stays still.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “You have permission to touch me,” Pyra says when the Prime doesn’t make a move.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Keeping himself low to her frame, he begins by nuzzling against her neck. The first step to her being comfortable on her back is to encourage her to relax, and getting her to expose her neck is much easier than he expected.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Would you like to merge?” Optimus asks as he gently smooths a hand down her chassis over her spark chamber.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “No,” she vents. “Not tonight.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     With the damage her spark has taken in the past, he understands. Most pairs frequently jump on the chance to sparkmerge, especially during interface, but it’s a small price to pay to be someone’s second. He doesn’t take offense in the slightest and moves down to her waist, tracing the seams on her sides.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “How is this?” He rumbles against her abdominal plating.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Just get on with it.” She cuts off her own growl and vents. “</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Please</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Optimus pulls up, slides his servos over the front of her waist to the insides of her legs, and lies down to kiss the top of her interface panel.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “What my femme requests,” he purrs as he nuzzles slowly down the front of the panel, “she shall receive.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     She doesn’t expect him to </span> <span class="s2">lick </span> <span class="s1">her panel, and it sends a shiver up her spinal strut. </span><span class="s1">“I know what you’re doing.” Primus, that almost came out like a moan.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Would you like me to continue?” He asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Unable to trust her vocalizer with this mech’s helm between her legs, Pyra looks down at him and nods. With a light blush on her faceplates, she lies her helm back and lets her panel retract.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Relax,” Optimus says, rubbing her legs in an attempt to soothe her circuits. “It will not hurt, I promise.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     Primus save the mech who left his femme </span> <em><span class="s2">scared</span></em> <span class="s1">of having her valve touched. He can feel it in her field even after her legs stop trembling. Slowly, with the utmost care, he brings his lips to her valve, and the first little nudge makes her tense up again. He slips his arms under her legs and puts his servos on her sides. This forces her legs up over his shoulders, giving him better access and allowing her to reach his helm easier should she need to. He sticks to nuzzling and licking her, ever patient through the breem it takes for her to relax again. She’s yet to let out more than a shaky vent, but when she relaxes she leaks a fair amount of lubricant.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     It takes a while to get to the point of eating her out thoroughly, but by then she’s started making some noise. He waits until she reaches a servo down to rest on his helm to introduce his digits. </span>
  <span class="s1">Pyra brings her other servo up to her faceplates and rests the back on her chevron. Once he works in a third digit and pushes deeper, she starts to moan, but cuts it off by biting the back of her servo and growling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Let me hear you, please?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     She shakes her helm. “You don’t like how I–“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Pyra.” She flinches and he crawls halfway up her frame, her legs dropping below his sides. “Pyra, listen to me. What he said to you is a load of slag. Do you understand me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The femme nods, frame relaxing as she takes a deep vent.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     “Good. Now...” The Prime sets a slow pace with his digits and purrs when her legs lift up to his sides. “I </span> <em><span class="s2">love </span></em> <span class="s1">hearing you when you take my valve. I cannot imagine how beautiful you will sound when I take yours. So please, let me hear you, Pyra Magna.”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     The way he purrs her name makes her valve clench and she lets out a soft sound </span> <span class="s2">very </span> <span class="s1">close to a moan. Both of her servos lift to his helm and she gently grips his earpieces, which makes </span> <span class="s2">him</span> <span class="s1">moan in turn. He pushes his digits deeper in appreciation and is rewarded with a full-frame jolt and her servos dropping to grip his shoulders hard.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Optimus</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">,” she gasps before releasing a loud moan.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Her legs squeeze his sides and her valve leaks an impressive amount of lubricant. He draws his servo back and gently rubs her soaked entrance until she relaxes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Did I find your special circuit?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     Now </span> <span class="s2">she</span> <span class="s1">purrs, nodding, and slides her ped down to rub his aft. He revs at her, she revs back stronger, and he thrusts his digits back into her valve, now working thoroughly to prepare her for his spike. Whenever the stretching gets uncomfortable for her, he returns to that sweet spot for a moment. Judging by the way she vocalizes and rubs her legs on him, she loves it. She’s relaxed enough to be releasing the pheromones from vents under her armor. She knows she has nothing to be afraid of.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Primus, he likes it when she marks him. </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Property of Pyra Magna</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Oh, ohh, Optimus!” Her grip on him tightens, he thrusts his digits faster, and she rewards him with dents in his shoulder armor. “OH, FRAAAG, UHHH!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The mech digitfrags her through her overload, wrapping his other arm around her as she arches off the berth. She clutches onto him like her existence depends on it. Optimus is released, he gently lies her back down, and both warframes scan each other.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Oh,” Pyra pants, reaching up to his shoulder. “I bent your armor. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “It is not an injury. Forget it happened.” She nods and he smooths his servo down her side. “Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     With another nod and a heavy vent, the teal and magenta femme puts a servo on the back of his helm, then pulls him down into a kiss. It’s unusually gentle for her, which distracts him while she sneaks her free servo down to grope his crotch plate, the way she does when she gets impatient.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     With an amused growl, he lets his spike panel retract and she takes his extending equipment into her servo. He breaks off the kiss and purrs at the pleasant sensation of her servo sliding up and down his spike, setting off sensors that have been a bit neglected for the few months they’ve been sparkmates. He thrusts experimentally into Pyra’s hand. She lets him, tightening her grip on his spike, and he groans. Primus, he wants his spike in her valve, but he reminds himself to go at <em>her</em></span> <span class="s1">pace.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Do you still want to take my spike?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Pyra nods.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Very well.” Optimus gently takes her servo off of him, spreads her legs, and settles between them. “Are you alright like this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I think so.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     He catches the slight waver in her field and leans down to kiss her and nuzzle her neck, his servos rubbing her legs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Relax,” he purrs against her sensitive plating. “I will go slow. If you do not like it, I will stop.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The femme nods and wraps her arms around him, digits latching onto red back plating. With one servo on her pelvic armor and the other guiding his spike, Optimus aligns himself with her valve and begins to slowly, carefully push in. The tip isn’t nearly as wide as his three digits were, but from there the shaft only thickens, gradually but enough to cause discomfort. The mech pauses at every ridge her valve takes, allowing her to adjust before sliding in the next plated segment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Between the sensors along his spike lighting up with pleasure and the tiny bit of scraping on his back, it’s a struggle for Optimus to resist his primal instincts and the deep-seated urge to just </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>thrust</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">. He keeps his servo wrapped around the base of his spike on the off chance that his willpower falters against said instincts. If he bucks, he won’t be likely to hurt or frighten her. Startle her, yes, but he won’t surprise her with his full size.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     When he’s about halfway in, Pyra drops her servos down to his waist and pulls, her own hips lifting to try to push back on his spike. She groans in frustration when her attempt is blocked by the servo around it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Primus,” she vents. “You’re slow...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “You have not taken a spike in vorns,” Optimus chastises her gently. “You need to pace yourself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The teal and magenta femme growls, but she relents and lets him continue to introduce himself one ridge at a time. Finally, their arrays meet, metal scraping as their frames slide into a perfect fit. He keeps still to let her finish adjusting, then tentatively rolls his hips in a minute thrust. Pyra makes a small noise, her field flickers with trepidation, and a moment later she pushes at his chassis.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Optimus pulls out immediately, much to his systems’ chagrin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Are you alright?” He asks, moving back when she sits up. “Would you rather–“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     She’s already repositioned herself on her hands and knee struts, and he chokes on a groan when she spreads her legs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Oh,” he manages after restarting the static out of his vocalizer. “Is this...more comfortable?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I asked Windblade for advice,” Pyra vents. “She suggested we use a position that I...don’t associate with my previous sparkmate...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Optimus gently runs one servo up her spinal strut, as a sort of warning before he moves on top of her, leaning to rest his helm on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I like this position,” he purrs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The femme scoffs at him. “I know you do. I can feel your spike on my leg. Get back in me before you chafe yourself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “As you command, love.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     He shifts for just a moment before sliding home a little bit too confidently. The sound Pyra makes sends a pulse of fear through his field and he goes stock still.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Did I hurt you?” Optimus asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “No, no,” she says, a hint of mirth in her tone. “You just...you startled me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “My apologies,” he vents as he gently nuzzles her audio. “I was trying to go slow.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     A teal servo lifts to pet the side of his faceplates. “I know, sweetspark. Now thrust before I lose interest.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     And thrust he does. Slowly, gently, but he thrusts. He pushes deep, rocking into her before pulling his hips back. He only has to repeat the languid movement a few times before the sensors in her valve begin to light up and receive the charge from his spike. When those sensors have picked up enough charge, the pleasure rolls in.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     The pleasure of interface is familiar, but also unfamiliar. The sensation isn’t coming from her spike this time, and yet it feels </span> <span class="s2"><em>good.</em></span><span class="s1"> Even with its size, her mate’s spike brings no pain upon her valve. It shouldn’t be the surprise it is, since vorns of not using her valve have allowed it to heal completely and properly.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Then Optimus groans, loud and long, a sound that tapers off into a vent of utter relief. Pyra realizes, with a sudden twinge in her spark, just how good it must feel for him, a mech, to at long last experience the intense pleasure of intercourse through his spike once again. Her spark pulses – he must feel it, because he tightens his grip on her waist and rocks a little faster – and she lowers her chassis until she can sob with relief into the berth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Ah...Pyra?” he pants.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     She grips the berth sheet and moans. “Faster...!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Mildly surprised through the haze of pleasure, Optimus obliges. He lowers a servo down and slips his digits between hers, seeking to heighten the level of intimacy. She seems to respond well to that, returning the squeeze he gives her. Gradually, as Pyra becomes comfortable, the red and blue warframe thrusts faster and harder. Words soon escape them, leaving nothing to be heard but the sweet, rhythmic, cacophonous sounds of their lovemaking, from the clanging and scraping of metal on metal to their moans and groans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Optimus is successful in delivering his conjunx to her climax before him. She spits out static when her frame goes rigid, then cries out as her charge is released through her valve. He growls at the resistance and continues to thrust, with minimal hindrance thanks to the fresh gush of lubricant from the component clamping down around his spike. His spike sensors pick up the charge released from Pyra’s valve, which boosts him over the edge.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The mech’s overload drives him into vigorous bucking in the few klicks it takes for his transfluid reserve to activate. With a heavy groan, Optimus lands a deep thrust and grinds into Pyra, pleasure and relief coursing through him while he releases. He rubs his faceplates into the back of her neck and slips his arm around her waist, grunting with every jolt of his hips as he wrings out the final few spurts of reproductive fluid.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Pyra lets out a satisfied moan when their mixed fluids begin to leak out around his spike. Optimus remains still, lying on her and panting. His pistons are already complaining about the continued weight on his legs, but he shuts down that alert in favor of another – he’s locked in. She must not have noticed when he magnetized, because she starts to move.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Wait–“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Her attempt to pull off of his spike is met with a tug in her valve and she yelps out a curse.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “What the frag, Optimus?” She growls. “Get out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I...I can’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “What do you mean, you can’t?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “My spike has magnetized to your valve. If I try to pull out, I could damage you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     Pyra looks over her shoulder at him with wide optics. “You have </span> <span class="s2"><em>magnets</em>?</span><span class="s1">”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     He nods. “If we are careful, we can lie down.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Please.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Using the arm around her waist to keep her pinned against him, he slowly guides her and himself onto their sides. He drapes his leg over hers and nuzzles into her neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “How long do we have to wait?” Pyra asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “No more than a few breems.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     “A few–!” Pyra vents, then continues calmly. “If I end up carrying your offspring because of this, I </span> <span class="s2"><em>will</em></span> <span class="s1">kill you.”</span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Insatiable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Pyra Magna is in rut, and nowhere is off limits.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally posted 6-15-2020</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">     It‘s mildly inconvenient. Not necessarily uncomfortable, but Optimus would have liked to move to a more private location. Not that he </span><span class="s2">doesn’t</span> <span class="s1">like being pinned to the top of his desk and fragged to incoherency. He just wishes he could have locked the door first. But by the time Pyra had pushed him onto his back and he caught the undeniable scent of rut pheromones, he knew resistance was futile. Now he prays to Primus that no one opens that door. If anyone were to get so much as a glimpse of him like this, legs splayed wide around the vigorously thrusting beast of a Magna, he would never hear the end of it. Not to mention the noises he makes in the throes of ravishment are embarrassingly obscene. She and Elita-One are the only two who have ever had the honor of hearing the Prime’s interface vocals, and he would like to keep it that way.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Of course, the subpar soundproofing of his office might change that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     He tries not to think about it and focuses on the teal and magenta frame above him, the ceaseless friction in his valve, and the pleasant repetition of their hips colliding. She snarls, flashing her fangs at him, and he nearly overloads. Seeing and experiencing Pyra in such a frenzied state really does a lot for him sexually. It’s no wonder she can so easily seduce him during her rut cycle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Not that she actually needs a rut to help her seduce him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Holding tightly to the edge of the desk, Optimus manages to stave off his overload at least until her grip threatens to bend his pelvic armor, a surefire sign of her own impending climax. He’s sure he’s denting his desk, but all he can do is throw his helm back and gasp as his frame goes stiff with activating charge. In a matter of klicks the charge gathers in his valve and overloads his pleasure system, forcing a shout from his vocalizer. It’s followed by a harsh release of lubricant that only allows Pyra to slide in and out of him even faster.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     With a roar the femme slams herself into him one last time, pulling hard on his pelvic armor to make sure she overloads as deep in his valve as physically possible. Optimus moans at the feeling of transfluid ejecting right up against the entrance of his gestation chamber. Frame hunched over him, Pyra growls as she grinds into him, spike still erect.</span>
</p><hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     They make it to the storage closet near the science lab. It became the destination when Optimus realized Pyra was stalking him from behind, looking ready to jump him at any moment. He manages to get through the door and close it before she advances into his personal space and pushes him against the nearest storage shelf. He finds a good hold on the most convenient rack, the panels come off, and his valve is filled for the umpteenth time this solar cycle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Pyra wraps her arms around him and starts thrusting at a brutal pace. The Prime has to fight to not be as loud as he was during the previous rounds, seeing how their inconvenient location lacks soundproofing entirely. Pyra is content to just huff and growl, of course. With their arrays being overstimulated already, it doesn’t take long for them to overload.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     As they come down from their highs, they’re startled by movement beside them. Pyra’s leg kicks out and the door slams shut, accompanied by the surprised yelp of whoever had started to open it. Purring, the femme dismounts her Prime, manually closes both of their panels, and nudges him to move.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Pyra, we should clean the–“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Berth.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Berth</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">,” she growls as she takes his servo. “<em>Now</em>.”</span>
</p><hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Pyra pins her mech to the wall, sliding her servos down his sides. In one fluid motion she gets her servos under his aft and lifts him up. He responds quickly, gripping her shoulders and wrapping his legs tightly around her waist. Expecting to be taken against said wall, as it’s still on their list of places to frag, Optimus retracts his panel. The femme growls in approval, but she turns and carries him to the berthroom, quite set on ravishing him on a more luxurious surface.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     She’s carried him around before, but it still feels odd and there’s a certain relief for both of them when she deposits him not-so-gently onto the berth. He moves into the middle of the nest of mesh sheets, leans back on his arms, and puts his peds flat on the berth to spread his legs in a wide invitation. He can feel a bit of her transfluid from earlier leaking out of his valve, and the sight of it only excites Pyra further.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     His femme crawls onto the berth, onto him. Her spike is out and she assumes her mounting position, only making a couple of shifts before she finds his valve. Once again she penetrates him, grinds in as deep as she can, and starts thrusting. Optimus’s helm falls back as he moans, fingers searching for purchase on teal shoulder armor. Once he’s secured a hold on her, she growls possessively, picking up her pace until the force of her rutting sends the helmboard knocking against the wall. Fortunately, the only room behind that wall is a storage unit, so unless anyone decides now is the time to fetch something, no one will be subjected to the tell-tale rhythm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     This also allows the Prime and his queen to be as loud as they want. Pyra doesn’t make much noise when she’s on top, even in rut, but Optimus more than makes up for it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     His vocalizations urge Pyra on. She grips his pelvic armor to pull him into her thrusts. He loves it, and when she dives down to sink her fangs into his neck, he overloads. He cries out, his legs clamp against her sides, and his digits threaten to bend her shoulder armor. His valve constricts and he’s thrown into a secondary overload when she keeps pounding him into the berth, until finally she reaches her own climax. With a few finishing thrusts, Pyra buries herself deep. She holds onto him with servos and fangs, growling and her bite drawing energon when her transfluid release mechanism fires, just a tiny bit lagged from its recent overuse. Aside from the tremors of pleasure in his legs, Optimus stays completely still. Every mech knows how ravenous a mecha in rut is, and he’d rather not have to visit the medical bay because Pyra literally fragged his struts loose for disengaging before she was ready.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Finally, Pyra relaxes and removes her denta from his neck so she can lick his wounds. It’s not a bad injury, but the marks will be noticeable for a couple of solar cycles. When she’s satisfied, she moves her helm up to mouth at his audio, then his earpiece. He simply lies there and purrs, the pleasant flow of leftover activated charge in his circuits keeping him suspended in post-coital bliss.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The femme‘s spike slides back into its protective sheath. She begins to purr as well, leaning to mouth at his neck again. At first Optimus thinks she’s going to straddle him and ride his spike into tomorrow, but she doesn’t remove his legs from where they hang lazily around her waist. She gently rubs at the small dents in his pelvic armor as she laves her glossa over the little punctures she left with her fangs. When he feels her continue around the front of his neck, he tilts his helm up to allow her easy access.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Purring louder, she drags her mouth over the other side of his neck, along his jaw, and back up to his audio, kissing and licking the whole way. He shifts when she moves up his earpiece. She growls and secures it between her denta, making him go stock still.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Ah...Pyra...?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     She lets his earpiece go and slides her glossa up the edge of it, then dives down to his chassis, startling him when she goes straight for the bottom edge of his windshields. He hadn’t noticed, but he had achieved a spike overload and splattered transfluid all over his abdomen and lower chassis. His faceplates heat up with an intense blush as he watches his femme, his queen, eagerly clean him with her glossa. When she gets to the Prime’s still-exposed array, he puts his helm back on the berth. He tries not to be too vocal, but she is extremely thorough in erasing all evidence of their coupling, and he can’t help an embarrassing whimper when she goes so far as to push his legs and angle him just enough to clean his aft plating as well. Then she pulls one of his legs up and sets about grooming every plate she can reach while situated between his thighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     He relaxes, taking his chance to close his panel while Pyra’s busy licking his ped. He closes his optics when she moves on to his other leg, content to just let her handle him. His leg is put back down and suddenly her weight leaves the berth. He opens his optics and sits up to find she’s left the room. Having an idea of where she’s gone, he moves himself back to sit against the helmboard, kicking the fluid-coated sheet off the berth as he does so. She returns shortly with a full energon cube. She about pounces onto his lap, then pushes the cube against his chassis until he takes it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Thank you, Pyra,” he rumbles, caressing one side of the magenta chevron on her helm with his thumb.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     Optimus receives a heavy pulse of </span><span class="s2"><em>love/contentment</em></span> <span class="s1">through their spark bond and the Torchbearer leans into him, her faceplates tucked against his neck. He shifts down the berth just enough to lean back comfortably, keeping a servo on Pyra’s back to hold her in place against his frame. Holding onto him with a servo on his shoulder, the femme puts her other servo on his chassis. She traces the lines of his seams, purring as he drinks the energon she brought him. When he’s finished, he sets the empty cube on the berthside desk, wraps an arm around Pyra’s waist, and moves again, this time to lie down completely.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Optimus,” comes her tired mumble.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     He helps her get situated, half on top of him with her helm and servo on his chassis and her leg thrown over his. He tightens his arm around her waist.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Yes, Pyra?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     She opens her optics and looks up at him with just a hint of a smile. “My rut has been satisfied.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Unorthodox</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It’s in their curious nature to explore. Besides, the Matrix seems to be reciprocating.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><span class="s1">     They should not be doing this. Optimus is the </span> <em><span class="s2">Prime</span> <span class="s2">of Cybertron</span></em><span class="s1">, he has duties as the Matrix-bearer, which include not leaving it exposed for longer than absolutely necessary. And Pyra Magna! The leader of the Torchbearers, and protector of the Matrix and its bearer. She should not be experimenting with the Matrix, much less </span> <em><span class="s2">rubbing her spike against its dome</span></em><span class="s1">!</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     But she can’t help herself. Her fingers slip through the handles and down to caress the Prime’s spark casing. With another slow roll of her hips, the mech’s interface panel snaps open without his permission, but not of its own accord. She can feel it through her spike – the Matrix is absorbing her charge, and seems to be </span> <span class="s2">responding</span> <span class="s1">to it through Optimus’ frame. Not that he’s complaining. Judging by the dimmed light of his optics, the blush on his faceplates, and his hands holding loosely to her pelvic armor, it’s quite obvious he’s enjoying this as well. Curious, Pyra strokes one of the supports in his spark chamber as she thrusts again.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Oh!” Optimus’ hips cant upwards, his heel struts sliding on the berth. “Pyra!”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     He could have sworn she had stuck her fingers in his valve, but she still has both hands pleasantly feeling around in his chassis. Did the Matrix just make him physically experience a memory? For </span> <em><span class="s2">pleasure</span></em><span class="s1">?</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Whatever the Matrix did, it does it again when Pyra brings her hands back up to trace the edges of its handles. Some of the sensors in his valve go off, quickly followed by a full assault on his circuit that has him arching off the berth. Or trying to, at least - Pyra is straddling his chassis, after all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Does that feel good?” She asks with a smirk, sliding her spike over the top of the sentient artifact’s dome yet again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Yes,” the Prime groans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     After a few more grinds and watching Optimus come gloriously undone beneath her, Pyra pushes herself up on her knee struts. She takes her spike in hand and starts stroking herself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I’m going to overload on it,” she purrs.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">     He lifts his helm up and gawks at her. “</span> <em> <span class="s2">What</span> </em> <span class="s1">?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     She growls and bares her fangs in a mischievous grin. “I am going to cover the Matrix with my transfluid.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     A shiver of charge runs down his spinal strut. Upon feeling phantom hands on his inner thighs, Optimus lets his legs fall open. He’s immediately rewarded with the sensation of a large spike penetrating his valve.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Ooh, yes!” He moans, hips bucking again. “Pyra, please...do it!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     The femme vents heavily and groans, tilting her helm back as she pumps her spike faster. “Working on it...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     His grip on her pelvic armor tightens. Moaning, he rocks his hips, trying to get more friction on the spike that isn’t there. The Matrix knows what he wants, and as Pyra reaches her free hand back down to caress the tendrils of his spark seeping through it’s casing, it frags him harder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Ah!” Optimus has to drop a hand down to grip the berth sheet, lest he dent his femme’s armor. “Frag...!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     With a gasp and a powerful rev of her engine, Pyra overloads, making sure to release directly onto the Matrix, which reacts by immediately drawing all of the Prime’s charge to his array, therefore overloading his pleasure system. Optimus takes it with about as much grace as anyone being fragged by the Matrix would, with a shout and a full-frame jolt as he releases through both his parts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     It takes him a bit longer to come down than normal, his peds remaining curled and his armor flared as he lies there in post-overload bliss. Pyra cleaning her transfluid off the Matrix with her glossa only lengthens said state of bliss. Eventually he opens his optics to see his mate set about cleaning him with a rag, and he grunts when she attends to his utterly spent array.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “What did it feel like?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     He shakily lifts himself up on his elbow struts. “What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     Pyra tosses the rag aside and crawls onto his lap. “For the Matrix to make you overload?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Mmm... It felt quite similar to lithium.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “I didn’t know you were into interface drugs,” she purrs as she traces one finger down his earpiece.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     His faceplates warm up slightly. “Ratchet gave me a prescription for it during the war... ”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">     “Of course he did.” Her finger on his helm vent now, she leans in to kiss him once, then pushes him onto his back. She reaches past the sated artifact to tease the seams of his spark casing. “I want to merge.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! You can support me on Ko-fi at https://ko-fi.com/queennoplot</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My only social media account is Twitter (@QueenNoPlot), any others are impersonators!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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